


1800-HOTLINE-BLING

by birdsintokyo



Category: GOT7
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Phone Sex, hinted!mark/jackson/jaebum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsintokyo/pseuds/birdsintokyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, Jackson resembles a dog in more ways than others.He just needs to be petted once in a while and be reminded that he’s loved and cared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1800-HOTLINE-BLING

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, this is actually old stuff that I forgot to post 2 years ago. Probably still relevant tho.  
> [Reference](http://defwang.tumblr.com/post/96264901010/jacksonwings-jackson-is-in-peace-when-he-is)

“Jackson, just come here.”

Jackson had been fidgeting ever since they had thrown themselves onto the sofa. Their faux leather sofa squeaks obnoxiously every time Jackson folds his leg under the other or when he re-arranges himself into a yoga pose, cutting through the drone of the b-list melodrama they’re watching. Mark isn’t particularly invested in watching it but is rather letting it play in the background while he scrolls through his Instagram feed. Except the sofa jostles with every movement Jackson makes and he can tell Jackson is a touch more restless today than he usually is.

See, Jackson resembles a dog in more ways than others.He just needs to be petted once in a while and be reminded that he’s loved and cared for. Which is great and A-Okay with Mark because Jaebum likes being an asshole who won’t let them adopt a puppy, so if Jackson is the only substitute then Mark will take it. Although Jackson might not have a tail, he wears his heart on his sleeve and is pretty much an open book so it isn’t difficult for Mark to read that Jackson is pent up.

Mark imagines a wagging tail attached to Jackson’s behind when he lifts up his arm for Jackson to press himself against Mark’s side, face on his shoulder and hand resting dangerously close to Mark’s crotch; finger tips grazing a few inches down on Mark’s thigh. Even though they’re not as full as Jackson’s, Mark knows how the younger’s hands can almost wrap itself around the girth of Mark’s thigh, it fits under his palm and tenses when Jackson’s squeezes it.

They continue to watch the drama for a while, Mark now moving on to check his Facebook feed with Jackson still and content for the moment at his side. But the silence is short lived where Jackson begins to become unsettled again, hands drawing random patterns on Marks thigh.

“Markie,” Jackson’s voice is husky, where it is usually somewhat high compared to most males and it disrupts the drama’s OST. 

Goosebumps prickle on the side of Mark’s neck, where Jackson has buried his face against and those two syllables leave trails of awakened flesh. His thigh jumps under Jackson’s hand as it climbs higher and higher until just a single digit teases at the divot where his thigh ends and his pelvis starts. Jackson’s finger is teasing through the thick material of his denim and the pressure is almost non existent but his whole body heats up none the less. 

The heat from his side disappears as Jackson pulls away to look at Mark with glassy eyes. “Can I blow you?”

Jackson needs to be reminded that’s appreciated sometimes and that’s okay with Mark. More than okay really.

He sets down his phone next to him on the sofa, “Okay.”

The sofa squeaks again as Jackson jumps off from it, onto his knees and in-between Mark’s legs. His belt buckle makes clinking noises when Jackson’s deft hands make quick, familiar movements to remove it and pull down Mark’s zipper. Mark lifts himself up to let Jackson pull down his jeans so they’re resting just above his knees and it’s only barely enough for Jackson to softly caress the front of Mark’s boxers.

He’s already half hard, because Jackson knows what to do to turn him on from all the experimenting they did since high school. Jackson knows the insides of Mark’s thighs are sensitive and he makes full use of that knowledge by leaving light, wet kisses along the supple skin, alternating with each thigh with each kiss. 

When Jackson reaches the bulge tenting at Mark’s boxers, his dick almost peeks out from the top of the waist band. Jackson’s nose prods at his cock through the material and the smell is earthy, rich and slightly pungent like every other male in their 20s. The point where Mark’s cock head is lies damp from the precum, material dark and stained even darker with Jackson’s spit as he tongues through the soft cotton at it. Mark’s hips can’t help but jump because he needs more of it, feeling Jackson tongue at him through the material is like watching a movie through a fly screen.

Mark takes the initiative to end the teasing and his dick almost hits Jackson in the face when he pulls down his boxers, cock erecting proudly in front of Jackson’s face. That was all that was needed to prompt Jackson into latching his mouth onto Mark’s cock, lightly sucking the precum that had accumulated and teeth bluntly grazing against the underside of his cock.

Jackson bobs once, swallowing a third of Mark's cock into the wet suction of his mouth then lets go of Mark’s cock with a pop, and he’s panting like a marathon runner who had just downed himself with water at the end of the race. It’s obscene.

“Fuck Jackson,” Mark groans at how bruised Jackson’s lips already are. “You’re really hungry for this aren’t you?”

The response he receives is a pinch at his thigh, where Jackson knows he’s sensitive and Jackson attaches himself on Mark’s cock again. Because he may be needy but he also has pride and refuses to admit how strong the craving for attention and approval is.

Jackson’s tongue works itself around Mark, digging into the slit when Jackson pulls up and the noises emitted are as lewd as the sight of Jackson on his knees with the pure goal of getting Mark off.

Marks closes his eyes and he lets himself recline back into the sofa, a hand buried into Jackson’s hair to guide him along the length of his cock. He can almost feel the small tingle of orgasm impending until he hears a vibration that shakes him out of his reverie and his eyes shoot open to stare down at Jackson.

He had initially thought that it was one of the sex toys that Mark undoubtedly knows Jackson owns and he had freaked out a bit at the prospect of it but no, it’s just his phone. He’s almost about to relax again until he sees that look in Jackson’s eye, that look when he knows Jackson is up to no good and his suspicions are confirmed when Jackson reaches for Mark’s phone, lit up and vibrating on the sofa and it makes Mark wish that it had been a giant pink dildo instead when Jackson raises a digit to swipe on the screen of Mark’s phone and brings it to his ear.

Jackson pulls off briefly to utter a short “Yes?” into Mark’s phone, voice a little broken from blowing Mark (but the person on the other side wouldn’t have known that) before guiding Mark's cock back into his mouth.

“Jackson? Is that you?” Mark can hear Jaebum’s voice through the speaker of his phone and he relaxes knowing that it’s their roommate. He also kind of wants to tease him. “Hey, I’m at the grocery store and I wanna know if we still have eggs at home.”

They don’t. Not after Jackson and Mark had burnt their omelettes this morning. Jackson hums a negative answer and it shoots vibrations down into the pits of Mark’s stomach and a moan strangles itself out of his throat involuntarily. Jackson is a fucking massive dick tease. A talented fucking dick tease.

“What was tha- Jackson Wang are you fucking blowing Mark right now?”

Jaebum’s voice is a shrill whisper because he can’t exactly disclose this information in the middle of the frozen food aisle of a grocery store.

Another groan escapes as Jackson purrs an affirmative answer through that smirk of his and proves Jaebum’s theory.

“Jackson, put me on speaker.” 

Jackson does.

“Mark, is he wearing those red boxers I like?”

Mark doesn’t know because they haven’t gotten around to removing Jackson’s pants yet but Jackson nods and it makes his dick travel further down the tight channel of Jackson’s throat. He takes a sharp intake of air before answering.

“He is.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’ll be home in ten.” The phone call ends with the dial tone and Mark takes the phone off Jackson before chucking it haphazardly across the sofa to dig both his hands into Jackson’s hair. 

Jackson obediently removes his hands that were were steadying him resting on Mark’s thighs to interlock them behind his back, the only permission that Mark needs to lift his hips up in short thrusts and fuck Jackson’s face, saliva dribbling down Jackson’s chin and gagging noises resonating as Jackson tries to relax his throat.

His hips stutter as he shoots his load down Jackson’s throat, Jackson hollowing his cheeks to milk Mark through his orgasm, eyes closed in bliss.

Maybe faux-leather sofas were a bad idea because the sofa sticks to his skin when he’s all sweaty and fucked out. They’re both out of breath and it’s the only thing they can hear despite the laughter thundering from the variety show from the tv. 

Jackson tucks Mark back into his boxers but leaves his jeans halfway down, they were going to come off eventually anyway, depending on when how fast Jaebum would be able to rush home. Sweat coats Mark’s hands when he begins to comb his fingers through Jackson’s dark locks of hair, whose head was resting on Mark’s thigh as he tried to catch his breath. Jackson rearranges himself so he’s not on his knees anymore, the hardwood floor abusing his knees for long enough but still remains seated on the ground because Mark tousling his hair like this is pleasant.

They’re laying like this when the door unlocks and Jaebum barges through to the living room, exactly ten minutes later like he said he would.

Without a hitch, Jackson lifts his head up and points an accusatory finger at Mark, “It was his idea.”

Jaebum throws the bags of groceries onto the counter and scoffs. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

Except it kind of wasn’t.


End file.
